Restaurant Nightmares
by AmIObsessed
Summary: *title changed from In a Restaurant* Wrote this because there seems to be a lack of gore for this exceptionally gorey fandom. Flippy's waiting for Flaky so they can go on a friendly date, but when Fliqpy comes out to play . . No one can hide. M for gore. Some FliqpyxFlaky at the end. Super long one shot.


**Warning: Gore and whatnot. Disclaimer (why do I never put this . . ?): I do not own HTF. Because if I did it'd be an anime show with Flaky as the main harem character.**

* * *

Flippy leisurely sat on one of the seats in the two sided booth, hands wrapped together and placed in front of him on the table, eyes locked on the double doors of the restaurant. His eagerness was practically spilling out of him as he shifted in his seat, a small grin tweaking up the corners of his lips. The reason for him being oh so eager, was, he had finally built up the nerve to ask out his long time crush, and also best friend; Flaky.

After speaking into a spoon—since he wasn't very keen on facing a mirror since the _incident_—dozens of times throughout the day, he had finally gone to her house with flowers and chocolates, trying to be classy, and asked her out. Flustered and trying to contain her squeal of joy, she had said yes to him and taken the gifts. But, and this was his mistake, he had misread the label on the heart shaped box and didn't catch the warning that stated that it contained nuts, the one food item that he and Flaky were allergic to.

When their injections and shots were over and the swelling had gone down, there had been a slightly awkwardness between them, unsure if the date was still going to happen or if the break out of bumps and scratching had ruined it. Though, he had eventually coughed out the question, saying that it could be an apology dinner between them, even if deep down they both knew it was actually a date.

Maybe that was why his heart felt light and fluttery, cheeks glowing, and a goofy smile on his face when he left.

Here he was, currently waiting until his date—excuse him, _'friend'_—arrived so they could order their meals. The Italian restaurant around him was bustling with sound and movement, the waiters hurrying around to cater to the every whim of the paying guests, and the guests bathing in the homey ambience of each other's company, idly talking about whatever came up.

The buzz of the conversations faded into the background, his mind tuning them out as he began to picture what she would come dressed in.

What if she wore a tight scarlet cocktail dress that showed off her figure perfectly, matching the color of her eyes and hair, complimenting her petite size. Or maybe a long sleeve knee length outfit, with black tights underneath that stretched around her shapely legs, the back cut like a V and open for anyone to see. Perhaps a sleeveless sundress type, the kind that flows when you twirl around or move in the simplest of ways, her naked shoulders free for his malachite eyes to graze over and only imagine what was underneath the rest—

Blushing at his own perverted thoughts, he waged a subconscious finger at his mind like a parent who just caught their child stealing from the cookie jar would. He would catch himself doing this constantly, the figments and pictures of the red head popping up and taking over his mind. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't make them go away, like they were some kind of virus or rash that would come back even worse than when you had gotten rid of them.

The strangest part to him was, he didn't want them to go away. The rising heat to his face would drain away and head to a different region of his body, the fantasies becoming more realistic the more he stopped to think about them. He knew it was wrong, thinking of his friend that way, but it just felt so right, having the power to make her do whatever he wanted in his mind.

Forgetting where he was at for a moment, he was snapped out of his twisted thoughts when he heard the crashing of plates and glass on the floor, gaining a flinch out of him. At the sharp sound of the fragile glass breaking to pieces, he felt the churn of something in his mind as something tried to find its way out of the darkness, hoping to find the light that was his freedom to the outer world.

Flippy could almost hear the low, guttural growl in his ears when it found no means of escape, even using the shattering to his advantage didn't seem to be helping him. Almost proud of himself for taking the therapy classes that Lumpy and Sniffles had offered, he let out a small chuckle.

'_I have better control of myself now, you're not going to ruin this date.'_

The biting comment in response was, _'Like I give a shit. I know you'll crack somewhere along the way, and when you do, I won't hesitate to come out.'_ His tone grew more sadistic, his wanting in life made clear as he continued, _'Mm, I wonder what that little bitch's blood would taste like if you used it on your meal instead of this shitty sauce~ I can already feel the warmness of it sliding down my throat while she struggles under me helplessly.'_

'_We're done with this conversation.'_

Pulling out of his mind, he got up and went to assist Petunia, the waitress who had accidently lost balance and dropped the plates and glasses of drinks she had been serving out. He got down on his knees, brushing the hazardous shards into a pile to the side as he tried not to get in the way of the panicking girl.

"Wha—!?" Petunia looked up, indigo eyes filled to the brim with craziness at the thought of all the mess on the floor. She stopped for a second, fighting with herself on whether she should let him help or not, it was her mess after all, and he might not clean it as well as she wanted! But seeing that he was near finished with gathering the pieces, she decided that maybe she would let him help with the rest, she certainly didn't want to get her hands cut up after all . .

"Oh," she wiped her hands on her skirt, "thank you, Flippy."

"No problem," he smiled kindly and went back to picking up what she had dropped. His eyes searched the floor for anything he had missed when he saw the shine of a utensil underneath the table of some guests.

Excusing himself and explaining why he had to stretch himself under one of their chairs to reach it, his fingers rubbed against the smooth hard wood flooring until his tips felt the end of it. Adjusting it between his middle and forefinger, he slid it out and held it in his hand, the warm lights above the room casting a shadow down onto the floor from his hunched over figure, hiding the drop of perspiration that appeared on his face as he saw what kind of utensil it was.

A knife, one used to cut bread and softer foods, but still a knife.

Against his will, he tilted it so its surface was aimed at him, his face showing the immense fear he was feeling from the pounding coming from his head, from the inside of his brain.

He heard the deep rumble of laughter echoing off the walls of his mind from the darkness and breaking a crack in the wall of his sanity, small at first, but growing bigger, letting in more light. With every maniacal, psychotic laugh the crack branched out, the unforeseen force breaking apart his built up defense so they could be free. The broken off parts that had been put there gradually throughout his sessions to get better fell to the floor and evaporated as if they were nothing, leaving gaps in the barrier where one eye eventually looked through, its ominous glow accompanied by the throaty chuckle.

Slamming their shoulder against the wall weakened it, cracks covering it as they finally broke through, they landed and kneeled down on the ground shaking their head, sarcastic laughter emitting from them. They pushed up off the ground with one hand, their eyes and flashing teeth standing out against the darkness that was coming from the new hole in the wall, enveloping the light of his sane mind.

This unnaturally empty darkness circled around the innocent soldier as his counterpart strolled to him, toying with his own dog tags and fiddling with the knife in his hand. As he made it, he fisted the front of Flippy's army sweater, frightened green eyes meeting evilly playful yellow ones.

'_I told you I'd get out.'_

With that, the emptiness closed in around them, sending the male into the labyrinth he called his mind, its blackness and cold temperature welcoming him, wrapping its arms around him so he wouldn't escape again.

There was a flash in the surface of the knife as his eyes suddenly switched colors, the nicer, friendlier eyes being replaced with cold hating ones. Glinting with malice and blood craving, he smiled, teeth sharpened to points as he examined his darker demeanor, the guests around him having no knowledge of what had just occurred inside of his head. They continued associating and enjoying their meal, oblivious of what he wanted to do to every last one of them.

Red bathed his vision as his tongue poked out of his mouth and swept over his chapped lips that would soon become wet with the blood of everyone in the room. The burning in his throat and the weight of the knife that he longed to plunge through someone's skull were interrupted as Petunia made her presence known to him.

"Thanks again, Flippy, I think I might've had a panic attack if you hadn't swooped in when you did," she laughed pleasantly, unaware that her friend had even changed as she proceeded to hold out a hand to help him up. She raised an eyebrow up curiously when he didn't take it and just sat with his back turned to her. "Flippy . . ?"

He turned his head to her slowly, eyes hidden behind his bangs as he stared at her hand before he looked at her concerned face, which grew from shocked to terror filled as he smiled innocently, rich voice speaking out seductively, "What's wrong, you look like you've just seen the devil~"

"O-oh my . . !" Taking a shaky step backwards and hitting a table, she found her voice and screamed out, "Everyone run! We have a killer!"

The conversations stopped midsentence as eyes turned to the screaming, seeing Fliqpy stand up and fix his beret, the knife between his clenched teeth as he cracked his knuckles.

Sliding it back out of his mouth, he chuckled, "Let's get this started then."

xXx

Cuddles' eyes that were usually dancing with laughter were now full of pure fear as he covered his head with his bunny eared hood, the clunking of boots hitting the floor going around the room as the crazy war veteran searched for anyone who hadn't fled or been killed yet. He asked himself why this had to happen today of all days, on the day that he and Giggles' were celebrating their one year anniversary.

One whole year they had been in a happy, committed relationship, and everyone knew just how hard that was for the pink haired girl, knowing how she usually got bored with one boyfriend and moved onto the next one. But she had broken that habit after she had met the blonde, rock loving, athlete who she called her boyfriend.

It was supposed to be a day where everything went right for them, even if it was just a minor occasion like an anniversary, it was supposed to be full of gifts and kisses that they gave each other. He had even been in the middle of presenting her with a pair of earrings that he knew she had kept her eyes on since they had appeared in the jewelry counter, but then Petunia had screamed it out . .

Now—he rubbed his eyes with the back of his sleeve—he didn't even know where his girlfriend had ran off to. When the warning had come out and everyone had heard the coarse voice that belonged to the insane killer, it had turned into mayhem, utter chaos. With everyone running, pushing over tables to get to the door, and tripping over each other's feet, he had lost sight of the big red bow that she had been wearing, losing her in the crowd. He could only hope that she had made it to the door before this psychopath had started his reign of blood and gore on them.

Swallowing, he looked straight ahead and through the gap between the floor and the tablecloth he was able to catch sight of . . Cuddles gasped as his hand went to the front of his sweater, feeling for the box that contained the earrings but finding nothing but air and lint.

He whispered out, "No!" as he figured that the tiny box on the floor under the next table over was his gift to Giggles', having fallen out of his pocket in the panic and bouncing under one of the chairs. There was no way he was leaving it there; he had saved up all of his money he got from teaching kids how to ride and perform tricks on a skateboard for the last two months, he wasn't throwing it all away just because some jerk decided he wanted to play the murder game!

The blonde continued to whisper over and over again to himself that it was all for his girlfriend and that he wouldn't be seen if he was quiet enough as he started sliding over to it on his stomach. Head pushing up the end of the table cloth, he looked down the aisle of booths and tables that seated up to four people for any sign that the male was stalking around nearby. Finding none, he wormed his body out from under his hiding pace, heading to his goal.

Cuddles' slipped his hand and upper torso under the restaurant table, feeling for the box until his palm landed on it. Proud that at least he had managed to save the present, he pulled back his arm and sat up on his elbows, opening it and admiring the twinkling of the diamonds as they swung slightly in his hold. The delicate jewels were cut off from view when he shut the box and quietly put it back in his pocket, squirming back to his hiding place.

He was almost there when his stomach and heart dropped, the clunking of the boots stopping, stopping in front of the aisle he was going through.

Gulping, he rolled over onto his back and sat up, pushing his slippers against the ground to push him back until he was met with the legs of the table, eyes locked on the killer's own. A minute passed before he chuckled, walking over to the shaking boy and looking down at him, his face white as a bed sheet as he pulled his knees up to himself.

"Did you think you could come out of your 'hiding spot' and I wouldn't find you?" Fliqpy questioned, amused at the cowering of the other male.

"You have to get out of here," Cuddles started bravely once he had his body's shudders under control, "and not come back. You're a jerk who ruins people's lives! I was trying to have a nice dinner with my girlfriend before you interrupted it and—" He jerked his head back when the green haired veteran bent down and growled out in amusement,

"What? That prissy pink haired slut? I dated her, and I ended it, I wouldn't want to be caught with a girl who goes around whoring herself off to every living thing, you don't know what kind of diseases that thing could be carrying~"

Taking offense at the remark aimed at his girlfriend, Cuddles narrowed his eyes at him, "Hey! You can't call her something she isn't! Giggles is not a slut and you take that back or else I'll—!" His sentence was cut off when Fliqpy's hand wrapped around his throat and he lifted him off the ground, easily picking up the bunny boy's weight.

"Or you'll what?"

The positions had been made clear now; Fliqpy was the predator lion and Cuddles was the helpless little bunny.

"P-please," his voice grew pleading as he thought of what sick way the maniac would kill him this time in, "you can't kill everyone all t-the time like we're nothing!"

"Oh, but I can," slamming him onto the table, he smirked darkly, "and I _will_." The choking sounds of the blonde were music to his ears, he admired the way his eyes were becoming cross and how he trying to pull off his hand to release his throat, as if he thought he were strong enough. Even the kicking of his legs that dangled off the end of the table was amusing in a way, it was like seeing a baby fussing around under an adult's hold.

Keeping a firm hold on the other's neck, and occasionally scraping a nail across the skin to create scratches and draw a light supply of blood, he grabbed what butter knives there were on the table in his other hand, setting them down where he could easily reach them when necessary. Using his elbow to hold down one of the boy's withering arms and sliding up his sleeve, he ran the dulled edge of the knife down the alabaster flesh, following the path created by the blue-green veins down to his palm.

He considered slicing the blonde's wrists on the way down, vertical so he would bleed out without hope of any paramedics being able to stitch it back up if he were still alive when they came, but then he thought of how, even if it was a messy death, it wouldn't cause any real pain besides the drained feeling. Continuing to drag the knife on the indentions of his hand, he brightened at the sudden idea that came to him.

The green haired male pressed the tip of the knife down into the middle of the soft flesh of his palm, increasing pressure with every passing minute and slowly releasing Cuddles from his death choke so he wouldn't pass out too soon and end the fun faster than he wanted it to. Its dullness refused to break through the skin though, much to his pleasure when he figured out this would be slower and more painful than he thought, as he continued to press on it.

By then, Cuddles had felt the utensil pushing down, digging further into his skin as he breathed in and out heavily from his newly non-constricted trachea. "W-what are you doing!?"

"Prepare to feel some real pain~" Fliqpy chuckled, raising the knife higher above the boy, and with one well aimed thrust, broke through the skin of his hand, plunging it in halfway before it met one of the bones of his joints and stopped.

Cuddles' breath hitched forward as a tingle was sent up his arm, followed by a wave of pain that caused the limb to jerk violently in spasms. With each new jerk of his arm, the eating tool was only pushed into his palm more, dislodging and pushing up some of the flesh away the meat, leaving it stretched and loose like an oversized coat used to cover a smaller person.

The small trickle of blood running down and landing onto the white table cloth, spoiling it, grew into a steady stream when he pulled it out, only to slam it back down again, hearing the crack of where the knife's end had been pushed through what he assumed to be where the boy's middle finger joint met the bone.

He pushed the handle back so it was almost horizontal with the table, spreading apart the tight gap to make room for the weapon for when he chose to stab it through his hand completely.

Squirming with pain, Cuddles' cried out for help as he felt the agonizing slowness of the separation, his knuckle bones pushing up against the skin that held together the middle finger and tightening it painfully, flushing red with the fullness of having to hold the three bones inside it.

"AHH! P-PLEASE! S-STOP IT!" He could hear the louder crack from inside of his body as the two joints were finally broken through and pushed apart. The pain matched the feeling of breaking his hand and the similarity would have made it bearable, if it wasn't for the constant edges of the butter knife rubbing and tearing through the meat of his hand, slicing through it like the bread it was made to cut.

"Don't worry~ this isn't the worst part," And now that there was a space the utensil could go through without stopping, he pulled it out one last time, making sure to drag the it out at an almost unmoving pace. He held it in the air above the bleeding palm, twirling it ever so slightly as he watched the fingers twitch every once in a while. Laughing and holding a hand to his head, he looked at Cuddles, "You know, maybe I won't have to do this. Maybe I'll just let you and your little girlfriend have a nice dinner."

He knew it was a trick, but he couldn't stop his hopeful question from stumbling out of his mouth, "Really?"

"No." He thrust it downwards one last time, the knife sliding through the gap he had made smoothly and coming out the other side, breaking through the top of his hand and pinning him to the table. The crimson liquid was now squeezing through both of the wounds, staining the table cloth beyond removal and making the blonde scream as he felt his hand being punctured through all the way, stabbing him to the table.

"AHHHA!" Cuddles cried out, tears sliding down his face and into his ears. His hand twitched around the knife, desperately trying to slide it out—or anything to remove the pain—but having no luck. Beginning to cry louder when Fliqpy grabbed his other hand, a different knife ready, he begged not to do it, but there was no persuading with the beast.

Ten minutes after and both hands now crucified to the table, he already wanted his life to end, for all the pain and torturing to end so he could rest until the next day. His throat was sore with the screaming and the spasms of pain kept running through his body, occasionally causing him to lurch up and bump back down.

"You're a m-monster."

"I'll take that as a compliment," smirking, he grabbed the last knife, the sharpest that Petunia or some other waiter had set down on the table before the panic, and pushed the tip of it against the male's nose, glad that he could see him squirming once more. Dragging it straight down and cutting his lips in the process, he placed it above his throat, the vein in his neck viewable with how fast his blood was pounding.

Without any further comments, he stabbed through the sensitive skin, earning another choked out gargle from the boy as he tore through his jugular, the hot liquid pouring out of his neck in a waterfall and bathing his body, the killer's hands, and the table with blood. His face grew paler at the amount of blood loss, life quickly fleeing from his eyes as he grew drained out.

He seemed to be trying to choke some words out, his sentence sounding like he was speaking underwater as the metallic tasting fluid rose in his throat, drowning him in his own body essentials. A translucent red bubble rose from between his parted lips, staining his face when it popped and dirtying his perfectly blonde hair as it spilled from his mouth, joining the puddle that the blood from his throat had made.

Fliqpy stood up satisfied and, seeing the bulge in his pocket, reached inside it to take it out. Opening the white box and smearing the redness of his fingers onto it, he saw the earrings that were engraved with the name _'Giggles'_ on the insides of them.

"Isn't that sweet."

Taking them out from the box, he leaned back over the dead corpse of the boy and dropped them into the pool gathered inside of his mouth, seeing them bob at the top before sinking.

Giggles wouldn't be getting that gift anytime soon.

xXx

Handy was pressed up against one of the pillars that held up the roof of the restaurant, panting lightly as he eyed the double doors that led to the outside of this now deadly area. He hadn't seen Fliqpy yet, but he knew that the veteran was a master of surprise, being able to pop out from anywhere whenever he wanted to. That just made him all the more cautious as he peered around the supporter, seeing only the bar and the bathroom where he could've sworn he saw Giggles run into earlier.

He wanted so much to help his friend escape, but what could an armless man do if they were to meet with the murderer before they got out? They had no way to protect themselves . . because he hardly doubted that Giggles would be able to put up any fight at all to him before he gutted her . . and without hands . .

Annoyed at his disability, he scowled and tried to focus on a way to make it to the door without disturbing anything and making any noise that would alert the psycho to his location. He had only came here to bring Petunia her lunch that he slaved away at making each day, just to see the adorable smile she had when she took it from where he was holding it in his mouth.

He had been on his way out, shoulder pushing the doors open, when he had heard her scream. Yes, he knew that he could escape easily since he was the closet to the exit, but his concern for the blue haired female had gotten the better of him as he jumped out of the way of the rushing crowd, pushing past them in his attempt to get to her. But . . she had been nearest to the green haired male when he had flipped out . . was it possible that he had gotten to her and . .

The thought got him angry, why should some other man have the right to just kill anyone who was physically near him? Especially when that someone was Petunia . . !

With these angry thoughts brewing around in his mind, teeth clenched since his fists couldn't, he almost didn't notice that he had stepped out from behind the pillar and kicked a chair over. He couldn't regret it anymore now that he had done it, it was better to just go along with whatever his angered feelings wanted to do. Always known it have a short temper—most of it due to the anger that had built up over the past years from his lack of being able to do things for himself—he didn't surprise himself when he yelled out,

"Hey! You crazy maniac! Where are you!? I know you're looking for anyone that you can murder like the freak you are, so here I am! And I want to know what your sick, bloody hands have done to Petunia!"

Only after his outburst and when he noticed just how silent the restaurant got, it seemed that not even the sound of the dishwasher that had been turned on before everyone had ran away was making any noise, that he saw just how foolish it was of him to scream out. It had let the male know where one of his victims was hiding and given him the element of surprise, since now he would probably figure out where he could jump out and brutally murder him at.

Brown eyes that were almost orange flickering to anything that seemed to be moving, he calmed his beating heart, leaning on the idea that Fliqpy was too busy somewhere in the back of the restaurant killing some other person that he didn't hear him. Though it seemed unlikely, it was more for his comfort than anything as he ditched the pillar in favor of the bar, ducking under the counter and squeezing into the corner where the two short walls met. His low breathing seemed to be the only thing to him as he stared at his pants tucked into his constructions boots, straining his ears for anything that warned like the killer was close.

There wasn't a sound of army boots hitting the floor like he had expected, but instead he heard the sliding of what sounded like a glass cup being pushed down the counter, like someone was asking for a refill on a beer.

Handy didn't move, excusing the quiet noise for part of his imagination, even though he knew that something that real sounding couldn't be something he made up, especially since he hadn't been at a bar for the past three years and could never, not for the life of him, remember how the sliding sounded like. Eyes widening when he heard another sliding of a cup, he pushed his back up against the corner more, thinking that the counter would hide his tall body and make whoever it was go away, thinking there was no one hiding there.

The sliding continued, every cup sounding like it went further than the other until one of the glasses was pushed off the edge into the actual bar and landed on the floor in front of him with a smash. He thanked God that Petunia wasn't there with him at the moment, forgetting that she might be dead, and only thought of how her OCD would get the better of her and she'd give them away in a heartbeat when she started screaming about the mess.

But he didn't have any more time to be grateful when he heard the spine chilling voice that haunted almost every other person's nightmares when it was remembered.

"Haannddy," they called out, their deep voice raising an octave as they sang out his name, only making it creepier to him, "come out, come out from wherever you are, armless man. I'm not going to do anything~ I already had fun with Cuddles, but then he got boring and I had to deal with him before I moved on~"

So the sick monster had already gotten the happy go lucky blonde, Handy thought as he imagined what kinds of disturbing things he had done to his poor friend. Sorrow filled him, even he knew that today was his and Giggles' anniversary, she'd be even more ruined than she probably already was when she found out her boyfriend was killed on the day of such a special to them event . .

Fliqpy's voice grew louder as he drew nearer, "Where are you hiding you fucking cripple? You know you're not going to get away, no one ever does, so just come out and maybe I'll end it sooner than I did with Cuddles~"

Another cup was pushed from the other side of the counter, breaking diagonal of him near his feet. He brought his legs in as close as he could, scowling at the word 'cripple', his defensiveness rising as he was tempted to bark out that he was handicapped, not crippled, but he didn't want to die yet. Instead, he kept his eyes trained on the wall that contained bottles of various alcohols and tequilas, all sorts of liquids that were meant to infatuate people.

"Come on out~ don't make me come after you~ because if I do, I promise it won't end pretty."

Shuddering, Handy crawled away from the corner where his voice sounded the nearest to, dragging his back against the wall and using his feet to push him along. He just didn't need to answer and he would go away . . he hoped.

Making it halfway to the other corner before needing a break to keep his breathing from getting any louder than an inaudible level, he told himself that he would chance it seeing that all the taunting calls and breaking glasses had stopped. His sandy colored hair came over the top of the counter as he looked in both left and right to see where he had gone, but finding no one in sight. M . . maybe he had gotten tired of calling out to someone who wasn't there and had chosen to go search for another person . .

Handy hooked his chin on the counter, using it to pull himself up off of the floor, and with a great amount of effort, he managed to get on both of his feet at full height, tilting his head around to see if maybe he had missed the male somewhere. No, he wasn't around anymore, he knew that for a fa—

He stumbled as something smashed down on the back of his head, breaking into pieces as he fell to his knees, the pain in his skull turning into a throbbing ache. Groaning, he lowered his face to rest on his kneecap and closed his eyes so he didn't have to see the spinning of the bar anymore, the headache becoming unbearable. "W-what . ."

Someone kneeled down behind him, their dark tone whispering by the side of his head, "I told you to come out and you ignored me, I told you this wouldn't be pretty and still you ignored me, now get ready to be put through hell."

When he felt himself being turned over forcefully, he opened his eyes, the blurriness and pain hitting him; he started thinking that maybe he had a concussion now. Despite the pain growing around the edges of his vision and causing everything to look fuzzy, he wasn't blind enough not to see the yellow eyed male towering over him, a broken bottle in his hand that used to contain some alcoholic beverage. The jagged ends of the glass were pointed at him, his mouth curling up in a smirk as he looked down at the helpless man.

"Don't you feel like a piece of shit," Fliqpy chuckled out. "Crippled, weak, in pain, and in no position to help anyone. I'm almost wondering why you didn't leave when you had the chance." He stopped at Handy's pained face, irritation spreading through the construction worker's features, causing him to smile even wider, "I get it, you stayed because of that blue haired bitch. Is the cripple in love with someone? Well then, I'll make sure to make her death even more excruciating than I had planned~"

Through bared teeth and one eye almost shut, he growled out, "You stay away from Petunia. She doesn't deserve anything that you have to offer her, especially not your psychotic murder methods. If you do anything to her, I will promise that, even if I don't have arms, I will find some way to hurt you."

Pretending to yawn, the other male sneered at him, "That sounded almost exactly what that faggot bunny boy said. He said that if I called his precious whore a slut he'd do 'something' about it. Well you know what? He's dead now, and so will you be." Eyes growing an animalistic tint to them, he jumped onto the handicapped man, using the broken bottle for a weapon as he planned to stab him in the chest repeatedly.

What he didn't plan for was Handy fighting back by using his strong legs, pulling them to his chest and, similar to a spring, pushing against Fliqpy's body to push him away, sending him tumbling back onto the floor, the bottle slipping out of his hands and skidding out of his reach. That might've been one of the stupidest things he could've done, though, as it only served to fuel his amusement at finding someone who was actually able to play his game even in the slightest of ways. He took it as a challenge to bring out his best, and if his normal massacres and unique murder ways weren't his best, Handy didn't know what was, and he wasn't too intent on finding it out.

Pushing himself backwards urgently, seeing Fliqpy smile at him, eyes shadowed by his hair, Handy decided that he would have to turn his back to him, being the only way he could get up, and try to run away as fast as he could. If he was lucky, he'd make it to the door and maybe that would stop the soldier from chasing after him.

Wrong again.

When he turned over, raising his knee to where it almost touched his chin and jumping up, stumbling forward a little at the sloppy way of getting up, a hand gripped the collar of the back of his sleeveless, waterproof jacket, stopping him from going anywhere.

"Where are you going, _Handy_. The fun is just beginning. It's funny how you thought you could just kick me off and get away, it really was, especially since you have no fucking arms to even push the door open." He grabbed another bottle from the shelf it was on, tisking at him in a punishing way. "Your arms aren't the only things that aren't there, your brain must not either." Smirking, he held out the bottle so it was aligned with his shoulder before swinging it at the back of his sandy hair, the middle of the glass container cracking across his head.

Giving out a low pained cry, nubs moving as he tried to cover the now sensitive spot, he would've fell to the floor again if the hand hadn't been holding him up still. The alcohol had splashed out of the bottle when it broke from the impact, dampening his hair and spilling over the top and down the back of his head. It dripped down the front of his face, stinging his shut eyes from under their lids as he desperately tried to get the irritating feeling which soon led to burning to go away.

He could feel the sizzling of his pupils as the alcoholic drink burned them, blinding him for the instant as Fliqpy swung him around to the counter, kicking the back of his knees so he was kneeling on the floor. He felt the killer's fingers pinch his jaw and forcing him to open his mouth, latching it onto the edge of the wooden counter as he stood behind him.

"For every cry, scream, or tear you shed, I'm going to stab this bottle into your back, and if you do none of the three, you've won, doesn't that sound fair~" Getting no response besides mumbles, he nodded and touched the sharp ends of the broken glass with his finger, testing to see just how sharp they were. He succeeded in creating a small cut on his skin, eyes glowing with the pleasure of having a weapon that could break through skin, even his, so easily.

Placing a hand on the head of the builder, he counted backwards from three, each time furthering the bottle from his back, and on the count of one, his arm dropped and it came swinging down. Its glass tips easily broke the puffy material of his jacket, puncturing the skin of his back between his shoulder blades and around where his spine was, its circle shape now indented in him as what could be a tattoo. A bloody, excruciating tattoo.

Handy's blood shot eyes snapped open at the pain, his scream of agony coming out muffled against the counter. How was he not supposed to scream at that?! The glass had impaled him deeply, the beginning of his bleeding, he could tell, started as the male wriggled it around before pulling it out, the various stabs from the wound gushing out the red fluid, his back becoming warmer and moist against his jacket. His eyes still burning, he wasn't able to see the veteran smirk and shake his head.

"And to think, you almost had me thinking you'd be a strong one~" Once he had the bottle back out, he plunged it back into the other's back without another thought, causing him to cry in pain and push his chest forward in efforts of escaping the piercing points.

The only thing he wanted was blood; that was the one thing he needed most. And with the constructor's heated body liquid flowing down his back and dripping on the floor, the smell wafting up to meet both of their noses, he knew he just couldn't stop then. He needed to keep going, and that's exactly what he did.

It's what he did until Handy's back was a tattered bloody mess, the destroyed flesh showing through the pieces of his jacket that were hanging down loosely, threatening to fall of completely and drift to the floor. Not one inch of him had been spared, the multiple circles scattered throughout the area of open skin, the indents pouring out dribbles of blood that ran down until they met the floor, rolling down his construction boots and meeting others until they formed tiny groups around him.

The orange haired man was panting heavily, tears of pain shining his eyes over as his entire body shook, weakened by the amount of blood that had exited him from the wounds. He noticed when the killer stopped, tilting his head a little to the side to see if he was able to see him. Yes . . he saw his arm . . stretching over his head and holding something above him . . Teeth digging into the counter, he looked up, seeing exactly what he had dreaded to see.

"I'll make sure to take care of your little neat freak cunt for you~" Fliqpy couldn't keep the grin back when he saw the terror that washed over his eyes when he saw the bottle, the bloodied tips angled above his face, and the satisfying squishing and cracking sound when he brought them down. The points dug into the male's reddened eyes and broke through the gooey covering that protected them, his scream turning into a drawn out incomprehensible moan as the skin over his forehead was punctured as well, this one tougher to break through being the bone, or skull, that protected his body's main control station.

But anything can happen if you try hard enough.

Leaving the glass implanted in his skull and pulling him away from the counter, he let the armless man fall face first onto the ground, the bottle being pushed in deeper as the blood that drained from his head gathered in it. The crimson color gave it the appearance of wine, making it more convincing that it was some sort of drink as it filled up.

Giving a short, deep laugh, he left the bar, heading to the nearest woman's bathroom in search of a certain girly girl.

xXx

Giggles stepped away from the bathroom door she had just locked, thinking it would keep the man out. She brought her hands up to rest on her chest, catching the falling tears that rolled down her reddened face.

This day was supposed to be perfect, how could it not be? She was supposed to be picked up by her boyfriend in an actual car instead of his skateboard, they were supposed to have a nice dinner together where they could talk about the wonderful times they had spent together, and she had even planned a small anniversary surprise for later that night . .

But now . . none of that would happen, all thanks to the _him_.

Her petite body trembled as she walked the short space to the single sink, the lights flickering every other minute and giving her skin a sick, palish look in her reflection. Fuchsia eyes staring dully at her smeared make-up, at the tear lines that ran through and ruined her powdered blush, she reached up to wipe away the mascara, her other hand went to the purse hanging at her hip. She'd be damned if she was going to herself look ugly on her anniversary, even if there was the possibility that she was going to die in the end.

Pulling out her make-up bag with shaking hands, the girl spilled out its contents onto the sink counter, tubes of lipstick rolling off the edge of the marble and dropping to the floor with a clank. She ripped open a bag of wipes, the cotton pads dropping into the palm of her hand, and shut her left eye so she could brush off all of the used eye shadow. The gentle rubbing calmed her, the blinking lights growing more constant and bothersome as she continued the removal the products.

Her sniffling and the occasional flow of water from the faucet the only other sounds besides the lights, she surprised herself when she let out a suppressed giggle while taking the top off of her bright pink lipstick and rolling it up. The laugh was sad, leaving her opening mouth as she leaned forward to get a better look at herself, painting her lips with the vibrant color.

"Aha . . Cuddles if you could see your girlfriend now . . ." Hand trembling even more, the color ran off the corner of her mouth, smearing a half inch line of pink down her chin, but she didn't seem to notice or be bothered to take care of it. "In this nasty lighting . . you would think that I'm already dead . ." She stopped, lowering the stick from where it was pressed against her lips at and blinked, her appearance taking her by surprise as she saw herself clearly since the morning.

The paper thin look of her pale skin with the darkened crevices under her eyes that showed through her foundation, one of her fake eyelashes that had peeled away from the skin and fallen onto her cheek, and the color applied to where it wasn't inside the lines of her lips. She could only think of herself being ugly, why would anyone like something as ghastly as the ghost she was looking at right now . . Maybe this was fate's way of telling the couple that they weren't meant to last this long.

Maybe the outbreak of deaths on this day was supposed to tell her that she was never supposed to have Cuddles, and this was what happened since she stuck with him so long. If that was the case, wouldn't that mean she was the cause of his death, that she had brought this upon him and upon everyone? If it were true, then she deserved to meet the end of the killer's knife, or . . she could always do it herself.

She didn't stay on the thought long, not wanting to bring herself to a realization that it wasn't the wisest idea.

Giggles sorted through the assortments on the counter, tubes of blush and cover up dropping into the sink as she bit back her tears, she couldn't pick up the wrong thing and waste time by just searching for it. She fumbled around more, pushing off her emergency mascara and feminine products, her agitation growing when she couldn't find what she wanted until she reached back into the bag, feeling its thinly shaped prongs against her slender digits.

Pulling it out, she held up the silver tweezers up by her face, wondering how she would go about this. There was always the painful death where she could gauge it into her eye, thumping it with the hard part of her palm until it was fully lodged in the socket—she shuddered at the idea. A simple, quick death was what she wanted, never liking the pain of it all . . Who did . . _What was_ the fastest way she could end her life with only a pair of tiny tongs meant to pluck eyebrows . .

The tweezers seemed to raise themselves up to her neck by their own account, dragging over the skin and stopping where she felt her beating pulse.

This could be a faster death than just the jabbing her eye out . . All she would need to do to push against the flesh hard enough to break through it and she would stab the important vein. She wouldn't even feel it as much as she would with the other deaths . . She would, and this caused her to cringe, stain and ruin the dress she had especially bought for this day. The puffed out bottom and hugging front would be ruined with all the blood that'd be spilling out from her, and she didn't want that . .

Her intake of breath was sharp when she threw down the tweezers, questioning what she had been thinking. The clinking as the metal hit the washed down basin and slid into the drain was followed by a pounding on the door, freezing her in place, stiff hands holding the counter top. Hair twirling and swaying in front of her face as she turned her head abruptly, she looked at the jiggling handle. He was trying to get in, to get her, to finish her.

"Go away!" Giggles screamed out. "Leave me alone! Don't come in here!" She knew he would come in the bathroom and do as he pleased if he wanted to, but still she kept crying out for him to go away and leave her be. Was it really necessary for him to kill her when there were so many other people he could have fun using his freaky murder methods on . . !? She was just one girl, what pleasure could he get from killing her . . ! "Y-you stay away from me!"

The pounding stopped, a clicking and fussing coming from the handle for another ten seconds before it gave one last _click_ and was pushed down from the other side, the door swinging open centimeter by centimeter with a drawn out creak.

Hurriedly, she swiped off all the things off the sink and held her bag to herself as a type of shield. There was nowhere to run, nowhere to hide, she had trapped herself in the six-by-six bathroom where there was only the sink, the mirror, a trashcan, and the toilet in . .

In a stall! She saw this as a life saver, seeing that the toilet was in a hallowed out part of the wall, a stall door hanging off its hinges and offering her a limited space where she could hide. Deciding that it was better than waiting for him to come in completely and massacre her on the spot, she bumped her slim body against the opening door to shut it on him—which didn't work, not that she thought it would—and ran into the tight fitting stall.

Shutting and sliding the bolt into its lock, she cautiously placed a heeled foot on the toilet seat, hand gripping the supporting bar on the stall's wall, and pushed herself up until both feet were on. She spread her arms straight with her shoulders, palms pressed against the walls so she wouldn't slip and fall into the water. The scratchy chuckle signaled that it was time for her to be quiet, her life depended on it.

"Giggles are you in here~?" He called out, his boots passing by the stall as he walked to the sink and examined the amount of make-up that was spilled. "Aren't you sad that all of your make-up is ruined, how are you going to paint that disgusting face of yours now?" Picking up the uncapped lipstick, he stepped around the room, using what was left of it to draw a continuing line around the perimeter of the bathroom.

When it was finished, he dropped it to the floor, kicking it under the stall where it came rolling to a stop, meeting the toilet silently. "Looks like it's all gone though. Now your hideous face will be seen by everyone, doesn't that make you sad." This was the game he liked to play with her; he liked to use her fears of being ugly against her while she took every comment to the heart, followed by an actual knife.

She refused to answer, covering her mouth to prevent the small gasps, her face becoming forlorn.

Fliqpy stopped in front of the stall, rapping on it with his knuckles. "Open up, don't think for one moment that I didn't hear you screaming your extension filled head off. The rumor must be true, all pretty girls are stupid as fuck." The rapping grew louder as she sat on the cool, solid cover of the toilet's tank, arms wrapped around her shaking body as she thought he was going to break down the door to get to her. Then, with no warning, it stopped, sending the room back into the silence that it had originally been in, the flickering of the lights louder than ever.

Its buzzing filled her ears, her rushing blood following its rhythm so they both blocked anything else out. He couldn't have gone away that easily, Giggles knew, so she gave it a few more minutes before gathering up her courage and stepping down, heels tapping against the ground.

The on and off flashing grew faster, building up the tension and anxiety in her as she inched forward and, fingers on the bolt, opened the stall door to . . nothing. To her immense shock, leaning out of the stall, he wasn't there in the bathroom at all. Only the fallen cosmetics and the open door were the evidence that anyone had been there at all.

"Hello?—" Her high pitched scream echoed off the walls when she felt a hand grab her from behind, holding her shoulders and turning her so she was faced with the crazed yellow eyes. The eyes that had the exact same look when he had killed her on their first date. The eyes she feared most as she screamed out again, the pain of his gloved hands digging into her shoulders and wrapping around her throat heightening.

With each new flicker of the lights, his lips just stretched further over his teeth, his pupils reflecting her panicking body, her legs flailing in useless kicks that never hit him. "Are you scared yet."

Chocking.

"Well, are you."

More gags.

"Because you should be."

One hand still constricting her throat, the other rested on the top of her head, squishing the bow under it as his fingers clenched up, squeezing her skull while her lungs were beginning to cave in from the lack of oxygen. Turning her head ninety degrees, the short periods where the room was cloaked in nothing but darkness becoming longer, the switching between the light and the dark rapid, he held her out to the door, the purse hook only inches from her sensitive cornea.

"S-stop," the pink loving girl gagged, eye shutting the nearer he lowered her to it. "Stop! Please I don't w-want to—AAAHHH!" She shrieked, hands curling in pain and manicured nails digging into his the skin of the top of his hand as the small ball shaped piece of metal attached to the hook—put there for safety reasons—pushed against the resistant surface of her eyeball, gauging it with a squishing pop. The lid that was meant to protect it from little things like dust and eyelashes was trying to close over it, to push away what was causing her pain.

Sobbing as he pushed her head down further, the purse holder entering and breaking the gooey ball even more, she reached out to push on the door instead so maybe it would slide out of her pain filled socket. This was the pain that she didn't want to feel, why she hadn't stabbed herself with the tweezers in the first place, but in the end she went through it anyways.

Already, an inch pushed inside of her, she could feel the tip of the hook tear through the back of the eye and press against the walls it was contained in along with the tears and blood mix traveling down her face, the reapplied make-up ruined once more. When would he stop the torture and just stab her in the heart already . .

"Please," Giggles blubbered out, lungs on fire and face red, "what are you going to—"

_Crack._

Before she had finished her question, he had used his elbow to lurch her head forward, the holder breaking through the back of the socket and reaching her brain where it stuck. The scarlet fluid gushed out like a river at the suddenness, dropping onto the front of her expensive dress that she didn't want ruined, but now it was. Her other eye was wide, frozen as she stopped moving, his hands releasing her from his choke and letting her hang on hook, the tips of her heels hanging above the tiled floor.

Cackling, he pushed her body and the door open, shutting it behind him and enjoying the thumping sound it made as her body bounced against it, calling out as an afterthought, "Oh yeah, happy anniversary, bitch!"

xXx

"Oh my G-God . . !" Petunia had dropped herself onto her bottom when she pushed past the rubber door that sealed off the kitchen from the actual restaurant. Fear shone over her eyes as tendrils of blue hair came undone from her tightly done up ponytail and swung down to hang in front of her shaking shoulders, staring at the ground, breath coming out in short gasps.

S-she had been on her way to bringing her two friends their special dinner that they had ordered, then she lost her balance when she slipped on one of Cub's toy cars . . She hadn't known that Flippy was sitting near her, not having been the waitress to escort him to a booth, and didn't know how to tell him that she didn't need help. The soldier was always wanting to help out in any way he could . . it wasn't her place to tell him to go away . .

And when he had grown stiff, staring at whatever he had in his hand for almost three minutes straight, she had brushed it off as nothing thinking that he had possibly cut himself . . but then he turned . . turning those eyes on her . . The horrible, ominous eyes that always made her blood run cold and sent a shiver down her spine . . Her suspicions were confirmed when the deep voice rumbled out, causing her to scream out the warning to everyone.

It had surprised her at first when he had gone after Pop instead of her first, but she later assumed that it was because he wanted her to know that he was coming. This might even be his twisted way of thanking her for being part of the reason he was released, but he would always come and get her. There was no escaping the monster when it was let loose.

Petunia cradled her head in her arms, gasps quickening at the thought of all the blood and stains that he had already created. Who would be the one to clean it up? When this place shut down for another few days to clean all of the stained floors and buy new furniture to replace the broken things, she'd be the only one concerned about the destroyed tablecloths and curtains. Like in every other job she had, she would be alone when it came to trying to clean and disinfect everything by hand, because of what he did.

What he did, what he was doing, and what he was going to do. She'd have to be the one who cleaned it all up.

Holding back small groans of disgust, she put her hands on the floor—the floor where people stepped on with their _muddy, filthy_ shoes, she thought—and crawled to hide behind a rack almost as tall as herself where they placed the dishes to dry. She had barely made it when the door was swung open, the echo of boots hitting the floor sounding off against the walls.

Tensing up, she looked behind her through the gaps between the plates, immediately catching sight of the beret atop of the green mess of hair . . and . . what looked like dried up blood . . How unhygienic. . . .

Fliqpy's fingers trailed over the stainless steel tables, eyes searching the pristine kitchen for any indication of blue hair. Stepping around the table, hand still lazily dragging across it, he leaned his head forward, looking between every aisle and empty space for the hiding female. "I'm getting fed up with this game, Petunia, your friends played it before you and they didn't win~ I enjoy chasing my victims, to an extent, but now I'm tired of this game of cat and mouse.

"So come on out. Why do you never listen, all of you, it's like you think I'm lying when I tell you that, no matter how hard you try to run and hide, I'll always find you," he stopped by the plastic crates that held the extra cups, reaching out to pick one up and turn it around in his hands. "It's hilarious." Attitude nonchalant, he let go of the cup and let it fall with a shatter.

"Looks like I accidently dropped it," stepping on the pieces, the crunching of the glass reaching where she was hiding at, his sarcasm only grew. "And look at all of this _mess_ that no one's going to pick up, doesn't that bother you?" He tipped another cup over, his apology followed by a smirk when he detected the shuffling of something behind the dish rack. "Oh no. My bad. Won't you just look at all the pieces on the floor? Someone should really get a broom, anything to get this place cleaned up."

Petunia covered her ears, teeth grinding together as her eyes twitched, her obsessive cleaning disorder being baited to come out. To pick up the pieces, swipe away the dust particles the glass had left behind, spray the area, and, lastly, wipe it down with a cloth so she knew there weren't any specks. It was an urge that needed to be fulfilled by her and her alone.

Nails scraping against the skin of her face, she tried whispering to herself that she could control it, that she was in charge and the weakness was not going to get the better of her.

"Or do you not like cleaning anymore~? The feeling of having everything spotless, all you need to do is come out and do it, there's no need to hide," Footsteps light, he crept past the last stove, hands resting on the back of the dish rack. "But oh well, it's too late for that." Laughing loudly and making his presence known, he pushed it over, showering her with dishes and glasses before it tipped over fully and landed on the unaware girl.

Petunia covered her head as it slammed down on her, pinning her body to the ground and pressing face against the grubby floor and broken plates. She screamed, not in pain, but at the imagined feeling of millions of germs crawling up from the ground and spreading over her cheek, some reaching far enough to enter her mouth, nose, or eyes. She was ingesting thousands upon thousands of the horrid little things and she couldn't stop it.

"A-aaah! The g-germs!" She tried moving her hand to the front of her catering apron to pull out a can of disinfecting spray, but finding that she couldn't move under the weight that was upon her. Making strangled grunts, she stretched her hand out the farthest it could go and still coming up short.

So involved with her actions, she didn't realize that the male had casually stepped around the new mess and kneeled down in front of her. Even then it wasn't until he grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him, that she understood what was going on.

"I found you."

The girl's eyes widened at the blood splattered across his cheeks and forehead, drying up clumps stuck in his hair as his intense stare drove all thoughts of cleaning out of her mind.

"Help," was all she uttered before he flung the drying rack aside, shoving it into a table and pushing it to crash with others. With her now exposed to him, his eyes on her throat, he grabbed the pine tree necklace she always wore and jerked it towards him.

The chain tightened around her delicate neck as he settled himself onto the floor and put both feet on her shoulders, keeping her in place while he the necklace dug into her flesh. Her olive toned skin color soon reddened into an irritated pink, turning brighter, the longer it rubbed against and pressed into her. A line going around half the circumference of her throat formed, a thickening flow of blood running down her chest every time he yanked the chain to each side, earning strangled gasps from her.

Her flats hit against the floor and kicked what plates hadn't shattered aside in her panic while her hands were clutching at the chain as she tried to remove it from where it had already cut into her body. She didn't notice that his hold was loosening; she only knew that she had finally slipped her hands under the choking device, slippery from her blood and smearing the insides of her hands, and was pulling it out of the folds it had created.

Petunia's panicking came to an end when he released the chain completely with a playful expression, gathering a drop of blood from her oozing neck and rubbing it across her lips just to get a disgusted gag out of her.

"Had enough yet?~"

"W-what are you planning?" She couldn't look down . . couldn't see her dirtied uniform that was coated with . . nastiness . . Even if she could feel the steadying flow of the fluid making her shirt stick to her skin, she couldn't look down; she'd just pretend it was clean, refreshing water.

"What a smart girl, you're actually expecting me to do more," he stood up, gazing around the room until he found what he wanted, she took it that what was why his eyes brightened. "Let's just say that a certain armless man didn't want anything to happen to you~ and I told him that he could leave you in capable hands, mine. Wasn't that nice of him to trust me?"

"Handy," whispering out she thought of what could be the reason he didn't leave when he did, "what did you do to him . . !"

"Don't worry, but I know _exactly_ what to do now." Fliqpy chuckled and bent down to wrap a cold hand around her arm, pulling her up to her feet without warning and causing her to nearly trip, a surprised yelp leaving her lips. Carelessly shoving aside tables, their wheels squeaking, and hitting pots and plates alike off of counters—Petunia flinching with every new mess—he forced her along with him to the nearest sink.

Seeing the soap duds and dishes that still needed to be washed, she stopped, "W-what are you—" Her hands gripped the wet counter as she screamed, her head being pushed forward into the water. It filled her ears and her open mouth, her screams coming out gargled as she whipped her head around furiously, trying to escape the grip he had on the back of her throat. Her indigo eyes opened and were meet with the murkiness that the food stuck on the plates had caused, bubbles of oil and pieces of pasta floating past her.

Her arms flailed out and pushed on the wall in front of her as her mouth opened in another shriek that she soon regretted it. The drifting pieces of food and water that was becoming colored with the blood from her neck were sucked in the open cavern, brushing past her tongue and sliding down the tube of her throat. Refusing to swallow the room temperature liquid, it was forced into the fragile sacks of air in her chest, her lungs quickly filling up the more she screamed.

The bile rose in her throat, meeting and pushing off the incoming water at the taste of iron mingled with tomato sauce. Clenching her lips to hold back the acidic matter along with what dishwater hadn't escaped, she continued to swish her head and splash up water.

"Are you getting sick of this," he asked, paying no attention to the damp spot in the front of his sweater. "You look like it. But don't worry," he leaned over her and flipped on a switch, "it'll end slower than you want it to~"

The churning of the water and grating of metal was hearable beneath the water, her eyes turning fearful once more as she struggled to contain the vomit inside her closed mouth. She brightened at the draining water, her air having been on the verge of running out. But when he grabbed her ponytail, and teasingly holding it near the garbage disposal, she couldn't stop her mouth from opening and uttering a shrill scream.

Fliqpy watched, containing a harsh laugh when her thrown up lunch spread throughout the remaining water and smeared against the skin of her cheeks as she started crying in hysterics. He only added onto his amusement when he dropped the tied up hair back into the water, the ends slipping away into the drain and reaching the spinning blades of the dispenser.

Petunia had just started to regain her breath, drippings of vomit still falling from her chin, when she felt the tug coming from her ponytail. "H-huh?" Then the sharp pains pricking over her scalp as it wrenched the hair from its roots as single follicles were ripped out one by one, sending stings across her entire head. Each new hair being plucked out gained a scream from her, her upper torso gradually being pulled to the drain.

The killer watched her reach out her hand, middle finger just inches away from the switch she wanted to turn off. He enjoyed hearing her shrieks when the tail of hair disappeared in the dark hole, her neck craned in an unnatural position while she bent over it, arms shaking as it got harder for her to hold herself up.

It was good.

Especially when she found out she was free, her hair chopped short though, and she tried to run. He was faster. He was stronger. He had gotten her before she had reached the door and held a knife used to cut meat against her. He had also liked feeling the new heat spill on the floor and change the color of his boots from black to red.

It defiantly was good.

xXx

The double doors to the restaurant opened, two heads of green hair peeking in, followed by laughter.

"Neeheeheehee."

Shifty pushed open the door fully, seeing that the dark restaurant was empty and there was no one manning the register kept on the podium. "I guess you were right about this one, Lifts, there really is no one here."

His twin followed him, ignoring that they were supposed to be stealthy and silent as the wind when it came to robbing; he was too busy surveying the area for anyone who would call the police. "Duh, I'm not blind, I can see when somewhere is empty."

"Yeah yeah yeah, whatever, is there anyone here or not?"

Shaking his head, Lifty sat on the top of a table and examined his raccoon tail chain with little interest, "Nope. No one here, wouldn't we hear them?"

"Did you even check? Dumbass, there could be someone hiding in the back!" Shifty pulled out a crowbar from the bag thrown over his shoulder, ready to smash the machine apart once he was confident no one would catch them. "Go check!"

Rolling his eyes and mimicking his brother's order under his breath, he got up and dragged his feet across the floor, heading to the kitchen. "It's so damn dark," he muttered, "I can't even see anything. Stupid Shifty, it's like he thinks I have fucking night vision or some shit . ." He bumped into a table, grumbling and going around it, not noticing that his leg hit a slippered foot on his way to the back

" 'Someone could be hiding in the back!' he says. 'Go check!' he bitches," his annoyance only grew when he opened the door to the back, turning on the light and seeing nothing out of the ordinary. "Hello? Anyone here? Say so now before I leave, 'cuz I don't wanna come back."

Nothing.

Lifty grunted, shutting off the light and leaving to walk back to the front of the restaurant, and never noticed the growing puddle of red that was leaking out from behind a stove.

"Hey, Shifty, there's no one back there," he called out when he was back. "You made me check for nothing you ass." Leaning back up against a pillar, hands in his pockets, he waited for his brother's answer, growing uneasy when he didn't get one. "Yo, Shifty? Where are you?" He stopped resting against the supporter, spotting the abandoned crowbar on the floor next to the podium. "Da hell . .

"Shifty if you're playing a game of hide-and-seek, quit messing with me. 'sides, don't you think you're way too old for that? Shifty?" Unsettled by his brother's silence, he walked to the crowbar and picked it up, throwing it up and catching it to ease his worry.

"Dude, we're in the middle of a heist so I don't think you should be fucking around and—"

_Kerk._

He heard the cracking, followed by the heavy thump of something as it fell to the floor. Eyes widening, he turned his head to face where it had come from slowly. "Shifty . . .—Oh my fucking God!" The young thief jumped back, dropping the crowbar when he made contact eye contact with his brother. His brother's corpse at least.

The bone in Shifty's neck was jutting out at an unusual angle, his emerald eyes wide and shone over, and the man behind him, wearing a large, sharp toothed smile, merely chuckled at the deceased twin. It had been so easy to snap his neck is why . .

"Holy fuck!" Unnerved at his brother's death, Lifty was caught off guard by the whistling that he heard from the double doors. He turned his head for a second, just to see who it was, and caught sight of the fire red head that ran down the back of a familiar female. "Oh God." Eyes flashing back to the killer's, he spun his body around and ran the few feet to the door, arm reaching out for the handle. "Flaky! Don't come—"

He stumbled forward, landing on the ground with his hand going to cover the front of his mouth, feeling the sharp tip of the knife that had been thrown through the back of his neck, cutting through the skin like scissors would with paper. His finger touched the point of the weapon, the blood from his mouth falling in the cup of his palm as the back of his white button up was ruined when the fluid seeped out of the wound behind his throat.

He only managed a short gurgled groan before his head fell to the ground beneath him, the man from the previous murder stepping forward to pull his knife back out of the thief and run his tongue over it, cleaning up the excess blood just as the red head reached the doors.

xXx

Flaky stopped whistling when she opened one of the doors, smiling at the dimmed down lights of the restaurant, the only signs of light coming from a single lit candle. It was nestled in a decorative holder and set in the middle of a table, setting the mood and sending a blush to her cheeks that only grew when she saw her friend sitting on the seat opposite of an empty one.

"H-hi Flips," she said and walked past the podium, her face burning as she pulled out the chair and sat down. "This is r-really nice," she was referring to the quiet, romantically lit area, "d-did you do this just f-for our date?"

He nodded with shut eyes and a close lipped smile.

"You're really s-sweet . ." Throwing her hair over her burning ears, she looked down into her lap, a small smile on her lips. Looking back up, she saw the plate of spaghetti that she had missed earlier as he twirled a fork around in it and raised it to her mouth. "O-oh! T-thank you . . !" She opened her mouth and let him feed her, eyes shutting at the romantic gesture.

She was so taken by the unique flavor of the dish that she didn't feel when he raised up the end of a noodle to his lips, putting it in his mouth and starting to eat towards her.

The taste was just so wonderf—Flaky's nose wrinkled at it— . . . peculiar . . It tasted like a blend of metal and salt together, mixed with water to create the slimy consistency it had against her tongue. It wasn't anything like the other tomato sauces she had tasted . . it had almost a _bloody _flavor . .

Feeling the tightening of the noodle and the hot breath hitting her face, she opened her eyes just as the cool lips, wet with the strange sauce, met with her own. That was when they opened their eyes, smiling crookedly and revealing the blood stained teeth, the gore splattered across their face popping out as the lights suddenly turned on. And when they did . .

She was able to see the blonde stabbed to the table next to them and legs wearing thick construction boots on the floor behind the bar; hear the creaking of the stall door in the bathroom and the never turned off garbage disposal in the kitchen; and spot the two thieves sprawled on the ground, one's head facing the ceiling while he was laying chest down and the other still gushing out blood from the hole in his neck.

Shaking and on the verge of tears, she stared at the murderer who was touching noses with her.

"I can't wait until our second date."

* * *

**AHAHAHA. *the realization that this could've been a short multichapter rather than a giant butt one shot hits* dammit! Well, there goes three days of my life that I spent typing this :p And I was so OOC (but I'm pretty sure Giggles would take even a dating anniversary that serious), I should just get shot in the foot or something.**

**What do you guys think of my gore? It's bad, it's okay, or it's good/pretty damn beasty? Because though I like writing it . . I don't think I'm very good at it :C Lol imagine all of my chaps were this long since all of this only happened in a forty-five minute period if you think about it . . xD**

**If you read this whole thing, congrats, you should go check out Crystal's Fem!PicklesxMale!LammyxFlaky story if you like good, scrumptious gore~**

***shoots self for even bothering to type this***


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